


A Day in the Afterlife of Hell

by FaeMytho



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/F, M/M, Multi, Queerplatonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28036821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeMytho/pseuds/FaeMytho
Summary: Short snippets, blurbs, and drabbles I post on my Tumblr regarding the Hazbin Hotel crew! This is basically just a oneshot book since these drabbles are too short to post on their own. Most of these will be on the fluffier side, but I make no promises how long that fluff lasts.
Relationships: Alastor & Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Angel Dust & Charlie Magne, Angel Dust/Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	1. Chaggie - Reassurance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> starting off with some good ol chaggie fluff! vaggie and charlie are such good girlfriends i love them
> 
> word count: 444

“But what if we don’t get enough residents by the time he visits? What is he going to say? What if he makes me shut down the hotel?”

Vaggie watched her girlfriend pace, worry etched into her face. She’d never seen Charlie so upset or worried about something, and it was beginning to scare her. She’d never met Charlie’s father, but the way Charlie was working herself up over a possible check-in from him was frightening. This wasn’t the Charlie she’d come to know and love.

With determination in her one working eye, Vaggie stood from her seat in Charlie’s office, and came around the desk she was pacing behind. She rested her hands on Charlie’s shoulders, stopping her girlfriend in her tracks. Charlie looked down at her with worried tears in her eyes, and Vaggie lifted a hand to rest it on the princess’s cheek.

“Hon, it’ll be okay,” she tried, giving her girlfriend a shaky smile. She wasn’t good at these kinds of things and she knew it, but she was trying, and she knew Charlie would count that for something. “We’ll make it happen, you’ll see.”

“But what if we don’t?” Charlie asked, and she lifted a hand to wipe at a tear that had traitorously escaped, sniffling. “What if I fail again? Like I always do? What if my dad is right about this too?”

“He’s not,” Vaggie said firmly, and Charlie blinked in surprise. Her smile from before returned, but this time it was determined, persistent. “You want to know how I know?”

There it was - Charlie’s black lips were turning up just the slightest amount. Vaggie’s smile turned into a grin, and she lifted her other hand to cup both of Charlie’s cheeks.

“Because you’re you, Charlie. You’re you and you’re amazing. Everyone will come around, and you’ll show them the way to redemption, I know you will,” Vaggie spoke softer, and Charlie gave a little laugh. She wasn’t smiling as wide as she usually did, but she was smiling, and Vaggie counted it as a success. “And I’ll fight your dad myself if he tries to make you shut down the hotel. You’ve worked so hard to get this far. Please don’t quit now, love.”

Charlie gave a laugh that sounded halfway like a sob, and suddenly, Vaggie was being kissed. The little touch was light and chaste, and yet, it left her winded, her mind scrambling to keep itself together.

“Thanks, Vaggie,” Charlie murmured, smiling down at her with the same dolce look in her eyes that she’d come to know and love. Her heart fluttered, and she smiled back, genuine and true.

“No problem, love.”


	2. RadioDust - Life's Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boys night!! alastor, angel, and husk get shitfaced.
> 
> ah, these two. they're so stupid (endearing).
> 
> word count: 761

“Maybe hell ain’t so bad, y'know what I’m sayin’ Al?” Angel slurred, draped across the bar. Husk stood behind it, swaying on his feet and looking positively miserable. Alastor sat stiff and rimrod straight in his seat beside Angel, and yet, his eyes were lidded and downcast over his ever present smile.

“I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what you mean,” Alastor spoke, the radio tin to his voice thicker and full of static. Husk groaned and slid down to the floor, while Angel lifted his head, squinting at the other demon. It was harder to understand Alastor than usual, considering their inebriation.

“Y'know, being here,” Angel murmured, the words sliding into each other as his mouth struggled to form the correct sounds. His lower set of arms banged up against the underside of the counter, and he winced, letting them rest across his lap. Definitely going to feel that later. “We got whiskey, you got gin, I got fucks and… whatever else the fuck I got, life’s good.”

“But, but Angel,” Alastor mumbled, his head nodding forwards. Angel scooted his stool closer to the other, and Alastor didn’t seem to notice. “Angel, we don’t… life. We don’t have it.”

Angel nodded along, his thoughts hazy and unformed. He blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the overlord’s words. “Fuck, you’re right, Al. Absolutely. We ain’t livin’, we’re… afterlivin’.”

Alastor seemed satisfied with that, the edges of his permasmile ever sharp even as he let his eyes drift closed for a moment. “Husk?” He asked, his eyes opening a crack. The bartender gave a discontented snort, and there was a thump behind the bar.

“Bastard’s out of it,” Angel giggled dumbly, letting his head fall against the bar. He closed his eyes for a moment, smacking his lips against the bitter, almost putrid, burning taste in his mouth. “Y'know, I don’t think I ever seen you drinking before.”

“I don’t… make it a habit,” Alastor murmured, his mouth closing over his sharp yellow teeth as he hummed an unfamiliar tune. “I don’t habit… drinking. With people. Usually.”

“Yeah I can tell. You ain’t even putting words together right,” Angel scoffed, lifting his head up to stare at Alastor. He folded his upper set of arms on the bar and leaned on them, forcing Alastor to look down at him on the bar.

The radio demon shook his head, deer ear tufts swaying with the movement. “Dear, if I wanted to speak eloquently, I could. It just requires thinking. Too many of it.”

Angel snorted, inhaling spittle up his nose and coughing out his laughter. “Yeah, a couple'a glasses a’ that shit’s hard ta think with, ain’t it?” He managed to say, lifting a pink gloved hand to cough into it. He pretended not to notice Alastor’s lazy stare.

“Indeed,” Alastor agreed, but he sounded vague and uncertain of something. Angel rested his head back on his arms and raised a brow, waiting for Alastor to speak again. “… I must admit, you are quite nice company when you are not making… perverse jokes. Moreso than I expected.”

Angel stared, a stupid grin breaking itself across his face. “Aw Ally, are you complimentin’ me?”

“My name is Alastor,” the demon corrected automatically, though he did not elaborate further on his previous words. Angel took the opportunity to slide closer.

“Ya like me, ya know it,” he purred mischievously, and Alastor’s lip upper peeled back to bare his dangerous smile.

“I said no such thing,” Alastor sniffed, turning his face away from the other drunk demon. As though he’d suddenly remembered it was there, he lifted the small glass he held in his clawed fingers and tipped back every last drop. “Nor will I ever say any such thing.”

Angel scoffed, his head whirling. He wasn’t going to remember it when they woke up sober, because he could hardly remember his own name at the moment right then. But he still had enough sense to not touch the radio demon, moving back in his own personal space.

“Here’s to you never saying any such thing,” he exclaimed, raising the unfinished shot glass in front of him. With a flourish, he downed the glass, slammed it down on the counter, and promptly passed out.

Alastor sat alone with his thoughts, fingers splayed on the wood of the countertop and the empty glasses in front of him clouding his mind. With nobody around who was conscious to hear him, he muttered, letting his eyes fall shut once more.

“What a stupid thing to toast to.”


	3. QP CharlAngel - Sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> queerplatonic charlangel!! we need way more queerplatonic relationship rep in the world, and i feel like these two (after working out a few things) definitely have the potential for a great queerplatonic relationship.
> 
> this is kinda set just after canon.
> 
> word count: 537

“Hey, Charlie?”

The princess of hell looked up from her desk, a bright smile growing on her black lips and across her cheeks as she realized who was at the door. She waved him inside, and he closed the office door behind himself.

“Angel,” she greeted him happily, though her smile fell fast as she took in his posture. She stood from her chair and rounded the desk, reaching out to take his lower pair of hands in her own.

He looked almost miserable, his upper pair of arms crossed underneath his chest fluff. He wasn’t meeting her gaze, but his lower pair of hands squeezed hers, as though for comfort. He was nearly two feet taller than her, and she wished (not for the first time) that she could cup his cheeks and hold his face, if only to offer him some more comfort. She didn’t know what was wrong yet, but she wanted to at least make him feel better about it.

“What’s wrong?” She asked gently, and he finally looked down at her, guilt in his eyes.

“I just, uh… I kinda wanted to say sorry.” He looked away again, and she blinked in confusion. He seemed to be really sorry for whatever he did, but for the hellborn life of her, she had no idea what for.

“Thank you for apologizing, but why? What brought this on?” She asked softly, and it was his turn to blink down at her in confusion.

“For fuckin’- For embarrassin’ ya at ya interview. I knew it was today and I still went out and fought in Cherri’s turf war. I knew you were at th’ news station advertising the hotel and I shouldn’t’a done it and I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t looking at her, but she could feel her smile returning, her heart swelling with affection in her chest. She knew Angel wasn’t really one to apologize, so to see him doing so now, for her, made her happy.

“I forgive you,” she told him, reaching up and resting a hand on his cheek, though with some difficulty. He huffed out a little laugh that didn’t sound particularly enthused, and bent a little lower so she could reach better. “It’s okay, Angel. I don’t blame you, we all make mistakes sometimes.”

He huffed at that, but leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. “Yeah, we do, but I knew, and-”

“Ah ah,” she interrupted him sternly, pulling her black lips into a pout. He opened his eyes just a crack, squinting down at her. “I already told you, it’s okay. I don’t mind. Yeah, maybe it messed up the interview, but there’s always next time! Maybe by then I can show everyone just how much you’ve improved. I mean, look at you now! Coming in here and apologizing; it’s sweet-!”

“Yeah yeah, hush up toots,” he hurried to cut her off, a light pink flush darkening the fur and freckles on his cheeks. Despite that, he was smiling, a shy little expression on his face.

She rubbed her thumb through the fur on his cheeks, giggling when he leaned even more into her touch with a fake looking pout. Maybe his redemption was closer than she’d thought.


	4. QP RadioHusk - Preen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand queerplatonic radiohusk!! i actually do ship these two romantically, but them being in a queerplatonic relationship also makes a ton of sense to me, so... well, who said i only have to ship them _one_ way?
> 
> word count: 473

“No fuckin’ way.”

Husk growled in the face of certain death, and Alastor blinked back at him, wearing a smile full of sharpened, yellow teeth.

“Husker my dear, have you no pride in your appearance?” Alastor tsked, reaching around the feathered cat demon once more. Husk had the audacity to smack his gloved claws away, a snarl upturning blackened lips.

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that, you piece of shit. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you stick your fingers anywhere near my wings,” Husk hissed, pupils contracting into paper thin slits. Alastor, for his permasmile, managed to look dismayed.

“But my darling, just look at the state of them!” He insisted, dodging easily around another one of Husk’s swipes. “How can you stand it? They practically hurt to look at, my dear.”

Husk’s claws missed again. He gave an infuriated hiss, his ire lost on the smiling, peppy radio host. But Alastor had a point; the feathered cat demon’s wings were in a state of such messy disarray that Alastor must not have been able to stand to look at them anymore. The vibrant, patterned feathers itched and scratched as he moved them, as they always did when he’d gone for too long without cleaning them out. This time around, he hadn’t even bothered to pull out the old feathers, instead allowing them to accumulate where they grew.

“It’s none of your business,” he snarled, and Alastor stopped, narrowing his crinkled eyes. He’d clean them out later, if only to get Alastor off his back. He had long enough claws to reach beneath each feather with deft precision. His claws were even long enough to reach the feathers that sprouted from his shoulders.

“Your soul is bound to me through contract,” Alastor spoke smoothly, and Husk rolled his eyes, straightening up and crossing his arms. Alastor ignored him. “By all rights, Husker darling, it is my business.”

“I said don’t call me that,” Husk muttered, turning his head away and allowing Alastor to move behind him. He could see the smug smile Alastor was surely giving him in his mind’s eye.

“Which one? Husker or darling? Or Husker darling together as one?” Alastor cooed, and Husk rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to snarl out a response. What came out instead was a choked purr as Alastor’s fingers buried themselves in his feathers.

Through the sudden need to purr and nuzzle into the infuriating demon’s fingers behind him, he bit his lip, drawing blood and hissing from the pain. “Shut up,” he managed, unwilling to show this kind of weakness in front of Alastor.

The fingers in his feathers, carefully cleaning the dirt and grit away with precise ease, begged to differ. If he had to show this side of himself to anyone, though, he was glad for it to be Alastor.


	5. Chaggie - Sick Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like vaggie is a doting girlfriend. i also feel like charlie's never really had a doting partner before. _(glances sideways at seviathan)_. so, senseless fluff!!
> 
> word count: 455

“Vaggie, I’m okay, seriously,” Charlie murmured, blinking her eyes open and squinting up at the light of her room in the hotel. Vaggie didn’t look convinced, sitting on the edge of her bed and staring down at her.

“Hon, there’s no way you’re alright,” Vaggie tsked, reaching out to place the back of her hand on Charlie’s forehead. She withdrew it with a wince, staring down at her girlfriend with concealed shock. “Charlie, you’re burning up, hold on, I’ll be right back.”

Charlie huffed from where she lay, finding herself too tired to argue as Vaggie stood and hurriedly left the room. Her eyes slipped closed, and she drifted off.

A cold, wet towel was placed on her head, and she blinked her eyes open, giving a pitiful, confused little noise. Vaggie was sitting on the edge of her bed again, two bowls on her bedside table. When she looked closer, one of them was steaming, and the air was ripe with the scent of food.

“Vags, when did you get back?” She murmured, and her girlfriend smiled down at her, a hand gently stroking her hair behind her ear.

“You fell asleep hon, but just now,” Vaggie answered, resting a hand against her cheek. She didn’t flinch away like before, instead giving a little sigh and gently stroking her thumb over pale cream skin. “Are you hungry? I made some soup.”

“Is that what that smell is?” Charlie hummed softly, blinking up at Vaggie with a delirious little smile. “It smells good. I’m hungry.”

Vaggie gazed at her with a fond look on her face. “C'mon,” she spoke quietly, scooting forward a little to help Charlie sit up, and taking the now warmed rag from her forehead. Once Charlie was propped up, leaning back against a tower of pillows, Vaggie gently lifted the steaming bowl from the bedside table. Raising it to her girlfriend’s face, Vaggie watched Charlie lean forward to sip at the bowl.

Charlie hummed in delight, a pleased smile on her lips as she drank more of the soup, even lifting her hands to cover Vaggie’s and keep the bowl steady. Once she’d downed half the bowl, she pushed it away, and Vaggie took it back without a fuss, concern in her one eye.

“Feeling a little better?” She asked, and watched as Charlie gave her a little nod, a soft smile on the princess’s face.

“Lots better,” she spoke through a yawn, closing her eyes and leaning back against the pillows again. “Nigh’ Vaggie. I love you.”

Vaggie set the soup bowl back on the bedside table, watching Charlie drift off to sleep with nothing but care in her gaze.

“I love you too, hon,” she murmured quietly. “Sleep well.”


	6. AngelHusk - Sweet Spot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yknow when ur petting ur cat/dog/pet with Fur, and u start scratching that one spot that just makes them melt? yeah
> 
> i love these two so much
> 
> word count: 308

Angel had found it completely by accident, but Husk certainly wasn’t complaining. Well, no, that was a lie. He was complaining, and loudly at that, but he leaned into the affectionate touches anyways.

Angel’s hand was buried in his fur, the top of his head being pet and gently scratched. Flusteredly grumbling, he curled closer into Angel’s hold, feeling the spider’s other arms wrap around him.

“Don’t say a goddamn word,” he muttered, feeling Angel’s little chuckle vibrate through his chest. Husk pressed his face closer to the exposed fluff there, and Angel’s fingers paused in their work in his fur.

“Aw, what? Is the big bad Husk embarrassed?” Angel cooed, and Husk, with some effort on his part, shoved himself away. Angel was comfortable, but he valued his own pride over Angel’s fluffy chest.

“Nevermind, you can’t pet me anymore,” he grumbled, and Angel gave a whining, pitiful noise, pulling him back into his lap. Against his will, he collapsed into purrs beneath Angel’s near heavenly fingers, threading through his fur.

“Don’t go, please?” Angel pleaded, four arms wrapped around him, a hand in the fur on his head, and another hand in the feathers of his wings. “Don’t go, you’re so cute like this, I’m sorry baby.”

Husk grumbled through his purrs, finding his face shoved in Angel’s chest again. It was hard to resist the urge to nuzzle his face into the other demon. Angel had already humiliated him this much, so why not? He gave in, and rubbed his cheek against the spider’s fluffy chest, feeling Angel’s little gasp and his fingers gently threading through his fur.

“You’re so cute,” Angel whispered, sounding awestruck, and Husk shoved his scathing retort down and purred. Because, admittedly, Angel was cute too, when he wasn’t acting like a complete slut.

He’d enjoy the moment while it lasted.


End file.
